


Making Time

by come_slyther



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: But make it exactly like the tv show Black Books, Domestic Fluff, Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter Fluff, Draco owns a bookshop, Drarry, Established Relationship, Fluff, I might write a whole fanfic just based on Black's Books, I'm half in love with Draco myself, Living Together, M/M, Sleepy Boys
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-24
Updated: 2019-03-24
Packaged: 2019-12-07 02:05:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,344
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18228437
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/come_slyther/pseuds/come_slyther
Summary: Harry's worried; Draco's sleepy.It's been four years and they've gone from shagging voraciously to...well...not.





	Making Time

**Author's Note:**

> Just a little one to get back into writing...work has taken over my life at the moment, so my energy is a bit low. But I wanted to share a sleepy moment with our favourite idiots in love. Hope you enjoy!

Harry Apparated into the hallway, wincing as the sharp _crack_ bounced off the wainscoted walls. It was almost 5am and Draco would be getting up in a couple of hours to get ready for work; he owned a small bookshop in Muggle London, carrying all manner of old and dusty tomes that had Hermione positively vibrating with joy whenever she visited. It stayed open until around seven every night except Sundays, when Draco took a day off, so Harry hated waking him too early when he came home.

It had been at _Black’s Books_ that Harry had run into his former school nemesis for the first time since leaving Hogwarts. He’d been seeking shelter from an unexpected summer shower, choosing last-minute to duck into the unassuming bookshop with the peeling green paint and small handwritten ‘Open’ sign rather than brave the hip record store next door (it had nothing to do with the intimidatingly cool guy flipping through the bargain bin outside, thank you very much). Harry’d been greeted by six foot two of gorgeous, lanky blonde wearing a cosy-looking grey cardy, tight jeans and an even tighter smile as he took in his customer. Six months and fourteen dates later, Harry Potter told Draco Malfoy that he was in love with him. Draco moved into Grimmauld Place the next day.

Moving slowly, Harry slipped his Auror robes off and hung them on the coat rack by the front door before padding softly up the stairs to their bedroom. He eased the door open gently, smirking when he caught sight of his boyfriend of four years sprawled inelegantly across the bed. Asleep was possibly the only time that Draco Malfoy ever lost his aristocratic poise and grace. The white t-shirt he wore – one of Harry’s, in fact – rode up his taut stomach, exposing a strip of creamy skin peppered with freckles and a trail of superfine silvery hair which ran under the waistband of his tight black pants.

Harry stood transfixed, his eyes on Draco’s prone body. _Merlin, how long has it been? One month? Two?_

Working as an Auror in the Magical Response Unit had appealed to Harry when he’d been younger and fresh out of his Hogwarts Eighth Year. It gave him purpose and structure, something he needed as he learned how to live after the War. He had never really minded the unsociable shift patterns or overtime, because frankly he hadn’t really had anything better to do: his Sixth-year romance with Ginny never picked back up, and the handful of men and women he slept with before meeting Draco never progressed beyond a night. He saw Ron most days as they were in the same unit, and Hermione most lunchtimes as she joined them from Level Nine. He was content with his lot, until he saw Draco Bloody Malfoy with an armload of books, a pen stuck behind his ear and wide grey eyes, and for the first time in a long time, Harry wanted something _more_ than work and sleep _._

As his and Draco’s relationship got more serious, the appeal of shiftwork and overtime and going away on missions and nights spent healing in St. Mungo’s started to wear thin. Even when they weren’t working, there just never seemed to be enough _time_ to be together; when their days off - and the fucking planets, it seemed - aligned, Harry and Draco would have friends to see, godchildren to visit, family lunches to attend, bloody laundry to do. Dates were scheduled far in advance, and _Merlin,_ Harry was just really bloody _tired_ a lot of the time. They had gone from shagging voraciously in the first year of their relationship, to less frequent fumblings, to going weeks where they did little more than peck each other on the cheek and have a furtive wank to let off some steam. Harry was a little frustrated – at the situation itself, rather than at the lack of sex – and a lot worried that Draco might start to get bored of scheduled shags and the odd handjob in bed.  

“Harry?” Draco mumbled as he stirred. Harry silently chided himself for waking Draco up. “’Zat you?” He yawned. “If it’s actually a murderer, can you come back in a bit?”

Harry chuckled lightly, shucking off his clothes and sliding into bed. The weak dawn light picked out Draco’s beautiful, pointy bones; his delicate brow and his regal cheeks, that wonderful cupid’s bow of a mouth. Harry reached out and traced a finger down Draco’s jaw.

“Hey,” Draco said, voice a little raspy, one eye blearily opening a fraction.

“Hey,” Harry smiled back. “Sorry I woke you.”

Draco shifted closer, sliding his leg down Harry’s and turning his face to kiss the palm of Harry’s hand where it rested by his jaw. “That’s okay,” he mumbled, “I had an early night. _Really_ early. Was rather embarrassing.”

Harry snorted softly. “I miss you.” He hadn’t meant to say anything but the words came out before he could stop them.

“’M right here,” Draco frowned. He slowly opened his other eye. Harry recalled a time when he thought Draco’s grey eyes were cold and hard; these days, all he saw was the warm grey of thunderclouds in the summer.

“I know,” Harry said as he let his fingers trail down over Draco’s collarbone. “I just…miss _this._ ”

“Oh.”

Harry brought his gaze back up to Draco’s, feeling a thrill running through him as his boyfriend’s pupils blew wide even as his own eyelids started to feel heavy.

“It _has_ been a while, hasn’t it?” Draco murmured as he placed one hand on Harry’s stomach, smirking slightly when the muscles jumped on contact.

“It has,” Harry replied, swallowing heavily. “But…”

Draco smiled sleepily. “But it’s early o’clock and you’re tired and I’m tired.”

Harry pulled him in close, pressing a kiss to Draco’s temple and running his hand through his hair. “But it’s early o’clock and you’re tired and I’m tired.” Draco huffed a sleepy laugh into Harry’s neck. “Do you…are you worried?”

“Hmm? What ‘bout?”

Harry pressed another kiss to Draco’s forehead, breathing in the smell of sleepy warmth and musky morning skin and the lavender pillow spray Draco liked to use every night, the ridiculous prat.

“About us… y’know… not having sex that often at the moment.”

Draco ran a hand lazily up Harry’s back, blinking his eyes open as he looked up to where Harry chewed his lip anxiously. “Why would I be worried? It’ll happen. I love you, Harry, every bit as much as I did four years ago when we’d shag at the drop of a hat. Us not having sex all the time like we used to doesn’t change that.” He reached up and pressed a soft kiss to Harry’s mouth, lingering for a long moment, softly stroking his fingers through Harry’s springy curls, before pulling back with a sleepy smile. “And you know I’d shag you all the time if I could, and I _know_ you’d shag me all the time if you could. But we get busy and we get tired and we find other ways to be intimate.” He burrowed back down into the covers, turning around so his back pressed against Harry’s chest, pulling Harry’s arm around his waist. Harry’s fingers automatically slipped under Draco’s t-shirt, twirling through the silvery-blonde happy trail on his stomach. “You always kiss me goodbye before you go to work, even on early shifts when you think I’m asleep. You spoon me in bed when you get in from lates, I fucking _adore_ waking up to find you pressed against me like that. You always make time for me when we get a Sunday off together. When those things stop, then I’ll worry.”

Harry kissed the nape of Draco’s neck. “Tomorrow’s Sunday,” he whispered, “and I asked for some annual leave. Let's make time.” Draco hummed lightly in response and snuggled closer. “I love you,” Harry added softly.

He fell asleep just as the sun broke, feeling lighter than he had in a long time. 


End file.
